Mar 27, 2008

When I was in college, I worked at the most kick-ass student run Web site ever. Before I went to work as a reporter there, I had no real interest in new media journalism. After being there for a few weeks, I noticed that I had turned into a raging internet dork. Unfortunately, I hadn't had the foresight to choose "raging internet dork" as my major, and I graduated and went to work in public relations.

Today, though, I accepted a job with the Memphis Commercial Appeal's new media department. I'm going to be working for the internet, and I couldn't be more excited.

It's started to feel like spring here, and it's strange. For the last four years, I've spent spring in Indiana, where the shift from cold to warmish is entirely more noticeable.

When you're in college, spring feels so hopeful. The year is almost over, all of the hot dudes have started going shirtless on the quad again, and it's no longer too unbearably cold to stand outside between classes and eat apples while your best friend smokes. Spring feels like a promise when you're in school - it's almost done, you're almost done, and everyone is in a good mood.

As a grownup, though, it's kinda weird. The weather is there, but now, when I'm outside, it's walking from the parking garage to work. When I find time to eat lunch, it's at my desk. When you're an adult, it's a lot harder to say "screw it, eff my responsibilities, I'm going to skip those and run through that fountain, or drink beer, or stay out all night."

I've been really stressed out this week, and I didn't notice until today that the trees were green and the dogwoods had exploded, and that it was nice enough outside this morning that I didn't need my hoodie.

In two weeks, I start my new job. In two months, Matt moves here. Right now, it's 8:34 p.m., and I'm finally sitting down to a dinner of yellow Zatarains and basil-seasoned fish.

Mar 13, 2008

Matthew is in town (yay!), and yesterday, he made a promise to an NPR employee at the "Bryant Park Project" that we would take pictures of where Jeff Buckley died. We did, and then they totally put it on the NPR Web site.

How insane is that?

It's almost as insane as the green snake-shaped loaf of bread that's sitting on my kitchen table. I think it's supposed to relate to St. Patrick's day, but I haven't seen anyone but the Midtown Schnucks celebrate thusly.